


May I

by BirdSpell



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, i can't write smut, this was a terrible idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8070538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdSpell/pseuds/BirdSpell
Summary: Shiro is a successful businessman who made a drunken bet with his friends. Keith is a half-Galra prostitute who could really, really use the thousand dollars in Shiro's pocket. Well, this can't possibly end badly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's that prostitute AU I promised, with an incredibly shitty summary that I'll probably remember to change once plot exists. Title comes from May I by Trading Yesterday, because titles are the hardest part of writing.

  
_What am I doing?_  Shiro wonders, not for the first time. _I should just turn back now. It's only a bet, and there's a good chance Lance won't even remember it in the morning…_  


 

Three hours ago, he had been in a bar with his friends, watching Lance, Pidge, and Allura get steadily more drunk with Coran. The topic of sex had come up quite naturally, and segued into a discussion about prostitutes. There was some debate over whether the practice should be made illegal or not, and Shiro had been foolish enough to add his two cents to the conversation. 

 

“As long as everyone involved is being treated with respect, I don't see why it's such a bad thing,” he'd said. “If the person isn't forced into it, it's just another job, isn't it?”

 

Lance had nodded drunkenly, clinging to Pidge's shoulder for support as the girl attempted to glare at both of them simultaneously. “Hey, Shiro… you ever hired one?”

 

“Well, no.”

 

“I bet you could never do it,” Lance had slurred. “Even with the restrictions in place, I bet you could never actually hire one. Ten bucks.”

 

It was an idiotic move, Shiro admits to himself, but he had just enough alcohol in his system to make it seem like a good idea, and he'd reached out to shake Lance's hand. “Deal.”

 

Which leads him to now, shuffling along a side street that Lance and Pidge assured him was the quickest way to the red light district in the middle of winter with a thousand dollars in his pocket. Allura had given him the money, _“To make sure you can't claim that you had no money to pay with, Shiro.”_  He's just starting to think that the directions were inaccurate when he nearly walks into a slender figure leaning against the wall. “Ah- sorry.”

 

He's about to continue on when the figure speaks. “What brings someone like you down this way?”

 

Shiro turns to eye the young man. He's on the short side, more lithe than slender from what Shiro can see, dressed in black skinny jeans and a threadbare, oversized red hoodie that can't possibly be warm enough for this weather. His clothes are faded and look like they've been torn and mended many times, and his sneakers are battered, almost falling apart at the seams. His hood is pulled up over his face, obscuring his features, and his hands are shoved into his pockets. “Someone like me?” Shiro echoes, attempting to make out the other man's eyes in the shadows under the hood. 

 

The man jerks his chin in the direction of Shiro's prosthetic. “I recognise Galra tech when I see it. You're obviously human, which makes you one of the poor souls they take as entertainment. Since you're coming in the back way, you probably don't want any of the many, many Galra officers around here to see you, which brings up the question of what you're doing in the red light district anyway.”

 

“So this is the red light district,” Shiro says. He's not sure whether to be pleased or horrified that he's located his goal. “I was afraid my friends sent me the wrong way.”

 

“Yeah, this is it,” the man confirms, pointing down the alley. “The first of the lights is just down there, see?” He sounds like he's decided Shiro is an idiot. 

 

Shiro glances over and sure enough, there are displays of red lights beginning to appear a hundred metres or so down. Maybe he is an idiot; at the very least, he's extraordinarily imperceptive today. “Well, thank you.” He moves to carry on. 

 

The man pushes himself off the wall. “What are you doing here, anyway?” he asks. “You don't seem like the type to come here.”

 

“I made a bet,” Shiro admits. “My friend said I would never hire a prostitute, and I was a little drunk, so…”

 

“Hm. Hey, what exactly are you looking for here? Maybe I can help you find someone. I come down this way a lot.” The man sounds almost hopeful. 

 

A part of Shiro wants to walk on. Instead, he turns to the man. “Uh… A guy,” he begins. 

 

“Very helpful,” the man says sarcastically. “Only about fifty of them down here. Age, body type, appearance?”

 

“Between nineteen and twenty seven,” Shiro says. “Muscular, but not bodybuilder levels? Appearance doesn't really matter. It's skill that counts, right?” He's blushing now. He can blame it on the cold, at least. 

 

“Much better,” the man says. “…Hey. What do you think about… hybrids?”

 

Hybrids? Now that the planet is under Galra control, there are a lot of them around. The Galra make no effort to protect them, seeing them as little better than humans, and the humans on Earth take their hatred of Galra out on the hybrids. They tend to work illegal or unpopular jobs; no one else will hire them. Shiro can't tolerate the Galra for long, but a hybrid… “…Depends on how Galra they look,” he decides. 

 

“Really?” The man sounds almost frantic now. “S-so, would the ears and sort of the eyes be okay?”

 

“Uh… probably,” Shiro says uncertainly. A thought strikes him. “Are you a…”

 

“Hooker? Yeah,” the man says quickly. “So… uh, if you don't want to deal with the Galra hanging around here, and you really don't mind a hybrid, then… I could… if you like…”

 

“How old are you?” Shiro asks. 

 

“Eighteen,” the man tells him. “I-I know you said no one under nineteen, but it's my birthday in three months, so… is that close enough?”

 

He sounds so desperate that Shiro can't bring himself to say no. “Alright. Do you know a hotel we could go to?”

 

“There are a few,” the other says. “Most of them will have Galra in them, though… I know one, but it's kind of expensive. Like, five hundred a night, and that's without ordering room service or anything…”

 

“Take me there,” Shiro says. “I can afford it.” He hesitates. “What should I call you, anyway?”

 

“Akira,” the man–Akira–replies instantly. “And no, it's not my real name.”

 

“Takashi Shirogane,” Shiro says, “but everyone just calls me Shiro. Are you Japanese?”

 

Akira shakes his head. “No, but Aki-nii taught me the language. I'm Korean. Well, half,” he adds, head dropping down. 

 

Shiro has to fight off the urge to touch Akira's shoulder or pull him into a hug. “The hotel?” he prompts instead. 

 

“Right, right.” Akira slides past Shiro, heading back the way he came. “This way.”

 

Akira leads him to a fancy-looking hotel in silence, occasionally glancing over to make sure that Shiro is following. The hotel, as it turns out, keeps a few rooms free for requests like theirs, and Akira leads him through the halls with the ease of familiarity. Shiro follows, unable to quite tear his eyes away from the sway of the prostitute's hips, just visible underneath his hoodie. He still can't quite believe he's doing this; he hasn't even seen the guy's face yet, doesn't know his real name, and he's already blown half his spending money on a hotel room to sleep with him. This isn't like him. Maybe he isn't as sober as he thought he was. 

 

Akira taps the key card against a door on the right and turns to look at him. “In here.”

 

Shiro follows him into the room and closes the door behind him. Akira is standing in the middle of the room, tugging at his hood. Shiro would almost think he was nervous, if he weren't a prostitute. He steps forward and touches the cloth with his left hand. “May I?”

 

Akira shrugs. “You're paying. Do whatever you like.”

 

Shiro frowns. “That's not what I asked. Is it alright with you if I take off your hood?”

 

He feels like Akira is scrutinizing him very closely. “I- Okay. That's fine.”

 

Shiro gently tugs the hood back, letting it fall back against Akira's shoulders. The man glances up at him nervously. Shiro can't actually say anything for a moment. Akira is _beautiful_. Sure, he has the slit pupils and ears, but they only serve to enhance his appearance. His eyes are a deep violet, flecked with the glowing gold that characterises Galra, and the ears poking out of the thick black hair falling just past his shoulders turn from black to dark purple at the tips. Shiro can't help but reach out and touch them, and Akira shudders, eyes fluttering closed. 

 

When Shiro pulls his hand away, Akira whines and sways towards him. Shiro chuckles, and runs his fingers along the soft fur gently. Akira hums softly, then pulls away. “So… shall we?”

 

Shiro nods hesitantly. “Do I just…?” He gestures towards Akira's hoodie. The hybrid chuckles and tugs it off. 

 

Akira is just as muscular as Shiro expected. He's much smaller than a full blooded Galra, but he's clearly in excellent shape regardless. His skin is marked by numerous scars, though not as many as Shiro. He reaches out to brush his fingers along a particularly large one on his hip. “Is there… anything I should know before we start?”

 

Akira shudders at his touch. “…Nothing that'll still be there in the morning,” he says. “No biting, no marks. And no kissing.”

 

“Alright.” Shiro allows his fingers to brush the waistband of Akira's jeans. “Bed?”

 

Akira nods and steps back until his legs hit the bed, then sits gracefully, leaning back on his hands and looking up at Shiro through his eyelashes. “How do you want me?” he asks quietly. 

 

Shiro doesn't answer at first, sitting on the bed beside Akira with a sigh. “…You pick,” he decides. “You know what you're good at, right?”

 

“How generous,” Akira purrs. He reaches out to touch Shiro's shoulders, pressing him back to lie on the bed. “You clean?”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro assures him. “Uh, what about you?”

 

“Don't worry, I'm fine. No one wants a disease-ridden whore.” Akira leans across to the bedside table and pulls out a small jar. “You want a condom? Your choice.”

 

“You'd trust me like that?” Shiro asks. It's not what he expected to hear. 

 

Akira shrugs, sitting up again. “Yeah, well. You won't take advantage of it. I can tell.” A secretive smile curls over his lips as he says it. Sitting there, his chest bare and with that smile lighting his eyes, he looks more like a whore than he has any other time this evening. “You want one or not? I don't care either way.”

 

“No, I'd rather not use one,” Shiro says. God, he's blushing. 

 

Akira chuckles. “I like you,” he announces, leaning over Shiro. His gaze slides along his body, and he runs a finger down Shiro's chest. “Mmhm, I _definitely_  like you.”

 

“Thanks?” Shiro says. He reaches up to run his fingers through Akira's hair, and the hybrid leans into the touch with a soft hum, not quite a purr but approaching it. 

 

Akira's fingers brush the hem of Shiro's shirt. “May I?” he asks, leaning down until his lips just brush Shiro's cheek. 

 

Shiro nods, sitting up slightly so Akira can pull the cloth up and over his head. The whore's eyes widen slightly, and he whistles as Shiro's torso comes into view. “ _Damn_ ,” he says. “I don't think I've ever had a client as fine as you.”

 

Shiro can't help the pleased warmth that rises in his chest at the compliment. He's proud to have impressed Akira, even though this is likely the only time they'll ever meet. Even so, he feels a faint pang of… irritation, perhaps. He reaches up to grab Akira's hips as the hybrid straddles him. “Don't talk about your clients while you're with me,” he says. 

 

“Jealous?” Akira purrs. 

 

Shiro doesn't answer, instead squeezing Akira's hips until the younger man lets out a shaky gasp. He can't be jealous. They've only just met; they'll have sex, he'll pay, and Akira will leave again. It'll be like it never happened. Well, except for the thousand dollars gone from Allura's bank balance. 

 

“You're ignoring me,” Akira huffs. When Shiro still doesn't respond, he shifts back slightly and grinds down against Shiro's dick, drawing a hiss from him. “There, see. Don't ignore me.”

 

Akira proves to be very difficult to ignore after that. He's just as good as Shiro would expect from a whore. They end up fucking three times before Shiro pulls out and rolls onto his back with a sigh. Akira flops beside him, panting. “Well, that was fun,” he says absently. “Now, uh…”

 

“Money,” Shiro says. “In the morning? It's late, and I'm tired.”

 

“You want me to stay here,” Akira says dully. “All night. With someone who payed me to have sex with him. Hasn't even payed me yet, actually. And you want me to sleep in the same bed as you.”

 

“I'll sleep on the floor if it makes you feel more comfortable,” Shiro offers. “I just don't want to be dealing with money when I'm this tired.”

 

Akira sighs. “It's fine. I've dealt with worse.” Without another word, he rolls over and brings his legs up to his chest, going almost perfectly still with a mutter that Shiro can't quite make out. 

 

Shiro chuckles. “Good night then, Akira.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was bored in math class, so I wrote this.

 

When Keith wakes, it's to the smell of bacon and sausages. He rolls over and opens his eyes, and Shirogane offers him a grin. “Good morning.”

 

“Morning,” Keith mutters. He sits up and eyes the cart that Shirogane apparently pulled up while he slept. “Room service?” Shiro nods. “Your breakfast?”

 

“Yours, too,” Shirogane says, like it should be obvious. “Come here.”

 

Keith scowls at him. “…And my money?” he asks. 

 

“Right,” Shirogane says, digging into his pocket. “I have… about four hundred dollars left.”

 

How much can he ask for? Dammit, Keith hates it when clients ask him for the price. He's always terrified of asking for too much. Then again, who knows when he'll next get hired? “Ah… Um… Two hundred…?”

 

Shirogane offers him a knowing smile that instantly makes Keith bristle. “Sure, that sounds more than reasonable.” He winces. “I mean that in a good way.”

 

“O…kay,” Keith says, taking the offered bills and hunting around for his hoodie. Ah, there it is. He slips the money into his wallet and drops the hoodie back onto the bed. 

 

“Come on,” Shirogane says, gesturing towards the cart. “You must be hungry. Besides, I'll never be able to eat all this on my own.”

 

Keith is still a little nervous about the catch to all this. There has to be something, there always is. But… he _is_  hungry… It can't hurt, can it? Besides, his sometimes-roommate would kill him if he wasted food. So he edges a little closer to Shirogane and takes the plate the man offers him. Shirogane smiles at him and piles the food onto his plate, and Keith…

 

He eats so fast that it must be painfully clear that he hasn't had a proper meal in… how long has it been? A long time, at any rate. He should probably go stay with Hunk again, actually; the restaurant will almost definitely have _some_  work to do, right? There's always something. Hunk promised that he'd always have something for Keith to do in exchange for a place to stay. Yeah, he'll do that after this. A couple days with Hunk, hiding in his attic when his friends come over and having company that doesn't pay him for sex or even mention his being a half-breed. 

 

He finishes his breakfast in record time. It's one of the best things not cooked by Hunk that he's ever tasted, and he can't help the longing gaze he levels at what remains of Shirogane's food. The man just chuckles when he notices and passes the plate over. Keith reaches for it, then stops himself. “Why are you doing this?” he asks. There has to be some sort of catch. There always is. 

 

Shirogane shrugs. “You clearly need it more than I do?” he suggests. “It's the right thing to do? I'm not actually that hungry? Why _wouldn't_  I?”

 

He seems serious. Maybe he's in a generous mood? Keith doesn't think he was _that_  good last night, but… “You're an idiot,” he says, grabbing the plate from Shirogane's hands and digging in. 

 

“Why?” He actually sounds confused. Shit, he really _is_  an idiot. 

 

“No one ever gives something for free,” Keith tells him. “Don't you know _anything_?”

 

Shirogane then starts looking at him like he feels _sorry_  for him, and that's even worse than just giving him charity. Keith turns away from him and focuses all his attention on his food. 

 

While Keith finishes eating, Shirogane absentmindedly gets dressed and folds up Keith's clothes. Keith listens intently as the man moves around, but all he hears is the rustling of fabric and soft humming of a Japanese lullaby that he half-remembers Aki-nii singing when he was little. He finds himself singing along in his head. 

 

Once he's finished his meal, Shirogane passes him with his clothes, attempting to fight back a smile and failing. Keith scowls at him and yanks them on. He walks to the door. “Feel free to call on me again, if you like,” he offers as an afterthought, before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. He doesn't give it another thought. 

 

* * *

 

Hunk reacts the same way he always does when Keith vanishes for several months. “Oh my- Keith! Where have you _been_ , dude?! You didn't even leave a note! You could've been _dead_!”

 

“Sorry,” Keith offers. “I've been busy.”

 

“Why won't you let me buy you a phone?” Hunk complains. “If you won't leave a note, you could give me a way to make sure you haven't starved in an alley somewhere. I was worried!”

 

“Sorry?” Keith winces. “I've been so busy doing… uh…”

 

“I know what you were doing, Keith,” Hunk interrupts, holding up a hand to stop him from continuing. “You know you don't have to do… that, right? I told you, if you help out in the kitchen I don't mind you staying with me.”

 

“Why do you think I'm here now?” Keith asks. He feels heat rush to his cheeks; he hates asking for help, even if Hunk doesn't mind. 

 

“Come in, then,” Hunk insists. “You don't need to stand on the doorstep. Besides, I gave you a key, remember? You don't have to wait for me to let you in.”

 

Keith shrugs. To be honest, he thinks he might have misplaced the key somewhere. Then again, it might have fallen to the bottom of his wallet… He toes off his sneakers at the door and perches on the edge of Hunk's couch, digging his wallet out of his pocket. He opens it up. Ah, there's the key, good. 

 

…Wait. 

 

Keith counts through the money in his wallet very carefully. Before Shirogane paid him, he'd had about thirty dollars. That's still there. So is the two hundred he asked for, but… “Oh, for fuck's sake!”

 

“What is it?” Hunk calls, poking his head out of the kitchen. 

 

“He gave me _double_  what I charged him!” Keith yells. “Who the fuck _does_ that?! What the hell?!” 

 

Hunk walks over and sits beside him. “So… you're mad because you made _more_  money?”

 

“He's an idiot,” Keith says. He doesn't really know why he's so annoyed. Shirogane gave him _four hundred dollars_. Keith is good at what he does, but not _that_  good. Two hundred was pushing it. “Who pays a half-breed whore–” Hunk makes a noise of distaste at his phrasing, but Keith ignores him “–four hundred dollars? Who does that?”

 

“I'd do that,” Hunk says. “Not that I'd ever hire you for that, but I would.”

 

Keith waves his hand dismissively. “You're different.”

 

“Uh, thanks?”

 

“You're welcome.” Keith shoves his wallet back into his pocket with an annoyed groan. “I hate charity,” he mutters. 

 

“Maybe this guy just really liked you,” Hunk suggests. 

 

“Yeah,” Keith snorts. “Like that'll happen.”

 

* * *

 

“I really liked him,” Shiro is saying when Hunk joins his friends at the bar. 

 

Lance turns to Hunk. “I sent him out to hire a whore, and he gets a crush. Can you believe him?”

 

“It's not a crush, Lance,” Shiro sighs. 

 

“Dude, you payed him four hundred dollars, on top of a five star hotel room _and_  breakfast. Who does that?”

 

“…What?” Hunk squeaks. He remembers what Keith said before he left. “ _He'd already given me a fancy hotel room and breakfast, four hundred dollars is way too much! Dammit, I hate pity!_ ”

 

  
_Maybe it's a coincidence_ , he tells himself. It could be, couldn't it? Lance sighs. “I know, man!” He turns back to Shiro. “He can't have been _that_  good.”

 

“He was pretty good,” Shiro says, blushing. “There was just something about him…”

 

Pidge shrugs. “Yeah, he was a hybrid, poor, and obviously desperate. Lance, you know how charitable Shiro is.”

 

“I guess it was kind of charity,” Shiro says. “But… Akira just seemed like the kind of guy who doesn't get much kindness. I thought if I could make things even a little bit easier for him…”

 

A hybrid prostitute going by the name Akira? Hunk just barely stops himself from groaning in horror just thinking about it. So two of his best friends had sex last night? Nope, no, nu-uh, he doesn't want to think about it. “A… hybrid, huh?” he manages. “Doesn't seem like the sort of person you'd want to have sex with, Shiro.”

 

Shiro flushes. “I felt bad for him,” he mumbles. “He obviously needed the money…”

 

Well, that was true. It was kind of funny that Keith had had sex with _Takashi Shirogane_ , famed survivor of the Galra fighting arena, and Keith hadn't even realised it. “You, uh… You gonna go back there?”

 

Shiro shrugs. “Maybe? I don't know…”

 

“It's not like you can't afford it,” Pidge points out. “Allura's salaries are _more_  than generous.”

 

That was true, too. As the CEO of Altea Industries, Allura payed her inner circle enough in a month to live comfortably for a year. Even the janitors were given a salary greater than some white collar workers. Of course, it was mostly because they all risked their lives to aid Earth's resistance against the Galra, but still. Shiro could definitely afford Keith's… services on a regular basis. And as much as Hunk disapproves of Keith's work, at least Shiro will treat him well. “If he's as good as you say, maybe I can get you in contact?”

 

Lance turns to gawk at him. “How?!”

 

Hunk shrugs awkwardly. “One of the restaurant's regulars. He knows just about everyone in… that business. If you like, I can see what I can do?”

 

Shiro offers him an awkward smile. “That sounds… great, actually. I'd like to talk to him properly, at least. Could you?”

 

Hunk grins. “I'll ask next time I see him.”

 

Now, how is he going to convince Keith that this is a good idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering, the song Shiro was humming is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ye79VgSLeqE).


	3. Chapter 3

“You want me to what?”

 

Hunk sighs. “He just wants to talk to you, Keith. That's fine, right? He'll probably pay you for it, too…”

 

Keith scowls. He's draped himself over the back of the couch in a way that looks horribly uncomfortable. “I don't want charity, Hunk. I'll stay here.”

 

“Keith, please?”

 

“No.”

 

Hunk sighs. Time to pull out the big guns. “Keith, I told him I'd be able to convince you to meet him. Just to talk,” he adds quickly, “nothing else. I'm not your pimp. If you don't go, then I'll have been lying to my friend. You know how much I hate lying to people. Please don't put me in that position…”

 

Keith scowls at him. “I know what you're doing,” he says. “Don't think I don't. Why should I go meet this guy again just because you say I should?” His ears flick in annoyance as he fixes Hunk with a level gaze. Hunk fights back the urge to stroke them; they're almost impossibly soft, but touching them will only annoy his friend more. “…Ugh, fine. I'll go. But I expect drinks.”

 

“I'll tell him to meet you at the Paladin, then,” Hunk says. The Paladin was Keith's favourite bar, and Pidge's brother ran it, which meant Keith could put drinks on Hunk's tab and Hunk usually only ended up paying half price. “Get him to pay, will you? Matt is sick of giving me cheap drinks.”

 

“Yessir.” Keith salutes lazily. “He doesn't know about our… arrangement, right?” 

 

“Right. Oh,” he adds, suddenly remembering, “if you come back tonight, there's a huge party tonight. Or you can spend more time at the bar with Shiro, and I'll consider this visit settled.” He hates this; having to barter little tasks to get Keith to hang around for more than a day or so. That's how he is, though. Keith can never accept anything for free. “And have _fun_ ,” he commands. “You need to spend time with someone who isn't me or paying you for sex.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith sighs. He mutters something in Korean that Hunk is willing to bet is anything but complimentary. 

 

“I'll tell him to meet you at eight. Back left corner booth alright?”

 

“Same as always.” Keith sounds more resigned than pleased, but Hunk wasn't expecting any more than that. “Do I really have to go?”

 

“Go,” Hunk says. “You need more friends, anyway. Before you say anything,” he adds when he notices Keith open his mouth, “I know you don't want to meet my friends, but this is different. You met him on your own, he decided he wanted to see you on his own, and you agreed to go-”

 

“Under heavy duress,” Keith complains. “I'm going because you're making me go.”

 

Hunk chuckles, reaching out to ruffle Keith's hair, careful not to touch the ears. Keith hates it when people touch his ears. He says it's a Galra thing, and Hunk doesn't question it. “You've got an hour. Go get ready, okay?”

 

Keith rolls off the couch. “Okay, okay. I'll see you later.”

 

Hunk grins. “Yeah, see you. Go and enjoy yourself.” He turns to his phone to let Shiro know as Keith slips into his room. 

* * *

 

“Hey.”

 

Shiro glances up at the voice. Akira is standing in front of him, a fresh hoodie hiding his face. It looks much better than the one he was wearing before. “Hey.”

 

Akira sits across from him with the same lazy grace Shiro remembers from before. “They said you wanted to talk to me?” They being Hunk's mystery friend, presumably. 

 

Shiro shrugs. “I could use the company. You didn't have to come, if you didn't want to.”

 

Akira shakes his head, a wry smirk curling across his lips. “Yes I did. I owe him. Besides, you're gonna buy me drinks, aren't you?”

 

“Can you even drink legally?” Shiro wonders. 

 

“No,” Akira says. “Why do you think I'm asking you to get them?”

 

Shiro hesitates. “…Just a couple,” he says. “I'm not letting you get drunk.”

 

“Ah, you're no fun,” Akira complains. “Fine. Get me a Bloody Mary.” Shiro raises an eyebrow at him. “…Please.”

 

“Sure thing.” Shiro stands and walks over to the bar. He can't stop himself from glancing back at the table every few seconds, feeling Akira's gaze boring into the back of his neck. It's a sensation that he half-remembers from his time with the Galra; the feeling of eyes on him, constantly watching. This is different, though. On the Galra ship, their Druids were constantly studying him, the guards always waiting for a chance to attack him, the spectators in the games greedily waiting for him to die. Akira reminds him of the other prisoners, more than anything. It's as if he's expecting Shiro to jump him at any second. 

 

He grabs their drinks and heads back to the table without incident, sitting back down across from Akira and passing him his Bloody Mary. Akira raises it in his general direction and takes a sip. “Mm. They make good drinks here,” he says. “…Thanks, Takashi.”

 

“Call me Shiro,” he requests. “Not even my parents call me Takashi.”

 

“Okay, Takashi,” Akira says lightly. 

 

Shiro chuckles. “Alright, fine. Takashi works, too.” 

 

Akira chuckles softly. Shiro starts; he's never heard a Galra laugh before. Not properly, anyway. It's a soft almost-purr, a broken rumble deep in his chest. It's cute, in a way. Akira breaks off suddenly. “What is it?” he asks suspiciously. 

 

“You have a nice laugh,” Shiro says. There's no reason to lie or try to dodge the question. Besides, Akira strikes him as the sort of person who would see through it in a heartbeat. “I'd like to hear it more often.”

 

“…Are you hitting on me?” Akira asks incredulously. “Seriously, Takashi?”

 

“What?” Shiro suddenly realises how he must have sounded. “Oh, sorry. Not like that, that's not what I meant.”

 

“Then what did you mean?” He sounds more amused than annoyed. That's good, at least. 

 

“Exactly what I said, I suppose,” Shiro replies. “I like your laugh. It's…” _cute_ , “…nice.”

 

“O…kay,” Akira says after a moment. “So, you wanted to talk.”

 

Shiro nods. “Well, uh… what do you do when you're not… Uh, you know.”

 

“Selling my body for cash?” Akira asks. He sounds even more amused than he did before. “You can say it, you know. I'm not sensitive.”

 

“You sure?” Shiro asks before he can stop himself. “You seemed pretty sensitive when we last met.”

 

Akira gives him an appraising look. “Not bad. I'll make a whore of you yet, just wait and see.”

 

“Never gonna happen,” Shiro says. 

 

“We'll see.” Akira stops and glances back at the rest of the bar. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asks. In any other situation it would have sounded flirtatious, but Akira just sounds uncomfortable. 

 

“My place?” Shiro offers. “It's quiet there, and not far from Hunk's restaurant if we decide to go out to eat.”

 

“Sure.” Akira gulps down the last of his drink and stands gracefully. “After you.”

 

* * *

 

Shirogane has a nice house. Keith hates to admit it, but it's true. It's far nicer than any of the places he's stayed growing up, at least. Shirogane must be loaded. Well, he already knew that; the guy did end up blowing a thousand bucks on a whore who usually only gets paid twenty. “Not bad,” he says. 

 

“Thanks,” Shirogane says. “You hungry? I have… pizza? Salad? Sorry, I need to buy more food soon.”

 

“Pizza sounds fine,” Keith decides. “What kind?” He's a little surprised, to be honest. One of the most common questions he gets is whether his half-breed status has any effect on what he eats. It doesn't, for the record, although the question often makes him lose his appetite. Shirogane… doesn't even seem to think of it. Keith tugs down his hood and shakes his head, feeling his ears prick up at the sound of Shirogane walking down the hall to what he assumes is the kitchen. He follows quietly. 

 

Shirogane is… nice, for lack of a better word. He treats Keith like just another person, as if he hadn't been fucking Keith's brains out two days ago. As if Keith were human. He hasn't had that from anyone but Hunk since… well, since Akira. It feels good, to feel wanted. But…

 

Why? Why would this man want to talk to him? Hell, why would _anyone_  want to talk to him? He's not exactly the most personable guy in the universe. If Shirogane doesn't want sex, then… Damn the man for making him so confused.

 

"Hey, Akira?" Shiro calls. Keith jolts, startled. "Do you want pepperoni or cheese?"

 

He doesn't understand any of this. He really doesn't. But... "Pepperoni, please."

 

Well, he may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit rushed, sorry. I wanted to post it today because tomorrow I'm going up north for the Thanksgiving long weekend.  
> On another note, apparently there's another Sheith week later this month. I'm gonna dig up the prompts before I leave, just so I can make sure I'm not late for this one. I need a schedule of all the Voltron things happening, dammit.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, I chickened out at the end there. So yeah, I can't write smut. At all. My research was for nothing. Well, I'll keep trying. We'll see how it goes.  
> I realise Keith's sort of out of character in this chapter, but he really needs the money. Next chapter will hopefully be better. Also, Hunk.


End file.
